[Edanian Journey] Epilogue

Chapter 2: Each in Their Place

There were familiar faces at the Outpost who had come from far away. The Black Spirit laughed that, now that we were no longer being chased by the end of the world, perhaps we could afford to take it easy for a day. I went to those who had been waiting for me. Even in places I had never seen, they had each been protecting their own corner of the world.

Viorencia thanked me on behalf of O'dyllita. When Sephir's Ahib, seemingly under Turasil's influence, flooded into the land, her forces had barely managed to hold the line. It was the Ganelle who came to their aid. Sisters who had long turned their backs on one another had reached out in the face of the same despair.

But a single act of aid could not erase years of hostility. Viorencia said they could not ignore how long they had lived divided, nor did she avoid the responsibility she and Brolina shared. Now that they finally had time to talk, they would begin working through it. I wanted to remember that promise longer than any declaration that their reconciliation was complete.

Jarette told me there was still more work than she could possibly keep up with. People continued to watch her closely because of Jordine, but with help from Al Rhundi and Isobelle, she had managed to keep Serendia's daily life moving. She said she had been so startled when the younger Jordine first came to see her that she dropped her pen more times than she cared to admit. She still seemed unsure how to face someone unfamiliar bearing such a familiar name.

I did not try to give her an easy answer. The place left by someone who was gone and the person standing before her now could not be the same. Still, Jarette had work waiting for her when she returned, and people beside her to help carry it. When she thanked me for protecting the peaceful lives of Serendia, I simply nodded.

Igor Bartali said he had hurried over as soon as he heard the news. Velia was perfectly safe, he assured me with a laugh. People were still drying fish and raising their cups as always.

When I asked about the Legacy of Heavens, he said he knew nothing of the grave robbers' whereabouts. But he did remember a verse passed down through the royal family: the legacy of the king who sought the heavens would break its silence before winter. It was less an answer than a clue I would have to carry with me for some time.

Mongryong was simply glad he could call me his friend with a smile again. In the Morning Light, people had gone back to cooking meals and opening their doors. He even joked about how all this might be recorded in the royal annals and what future generations would make of it. We laughed together when he said that surviving had surely earned us the right to joke about it. The world I had wanted to protect was there in those small, ordinary sounds.

No one's life had been made complete by victory alone. There were still conflicts to resolve, responsibilities to bear, and awkward reunions to navigate. But now, there was time to choose what came next.

Thinking of the tomorrows they would each live <b>in their own place</b>, I made my way toward the altar of Ynix, where the last remnants of the flame still burned.

I looked away from the afterimage and picked up my pen. There was something I needed to leave behind before the memory faded. Not for someone waiting to hear that I had won, but for the version of me who had yet to face despair. I could not give that self every answer I knew now, but I wanted to say this much: do not fall apart simply because you have seen the end.

I wrote that beyond slumbering abundance and a journey steeped in suffering, after unending vengeance and a war fought for a greater cause, an even deeper and darker despair would be waiting. I told myself to kindle a flame that could burn that despair away and let it light the path ahead. At the end, I added one last line: <b>Whatever despair you face, do not let it break you.</b>

When I cast the finished letter into the flame, it vanished without a trace. I could not see where, if anywhere, those words would arrive. Instead, I thought of everyone who had walked with me until I was able to write them. Those who never made it back, and those who had returned to carry on with their lives. The tomorrow they had given me was part of this record too.

The Black Spirit said that whatever I became, deep down I would always be an adventurer, always chasing the next path into the unknown. When it said it was glad it had chosen me as its partner, I looked back at it.

The end of this journey did not have to be the end of our adventures. With a laugh, I turned my eyes toward the road ahead once more.